


The Death of the Shadow

by MistAndMagic



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Gen, Mind the Tags, Suicide, This is very dark, angstfic, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistAndMagic/pseuds/MistAndMagic
Summary: Scathach is depressed, doesn't see an end, and takes matters into her own hands. Set directly after Vampyres of Vegas, so contains spoilers for that. Song lyrics all taken from Sleeping At Last songs.
Kudos: 1





	The Death of the Shadow

_ All of this mess is just an attempt to know the worth of life. _

Was it ever going to stop? Her chest hurting so bad she felt like she might just split apart and stop existing as she stared, near-catatonic, at the body of the only man she’s ever loved.

_ We promised we’d be safe, another lie from the front lines. _

She  _ failed  _ him. She failed him and left him, and now she’s killed him, and it hurts, like a knife driven through her body. Of course it hurts. Why wouldn’t it? There’s the love of her life, with a spear through him. Dead. Dead by her hand. There’s a nonstop voice in her head, of  _ ‘you fucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up’ _ . What if he was redeemable? What if she could have saved him from himself- from the dark elders?

_ I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time. _

She doesn’t deserve to keep going on, or want to. This is the second time she failed him. Left him. Killed who he was. She loved him- loves him. There are tears streaming down her face, white-hot and the color of blood, as she stands frozen. 

_ Show me where my armor ends. Show me where my skin begins. _

She could just end it here. Stop suffering- she was told she’d die in a desert, and here she is. Las Vegas. She pulls the gae bolg from the body of the man in front of her, finally, and watches as he crumbles to dust as she debates turning it on herself, leaning on it, still crying silently without even realizing she’s doing it. She hurts, mind, body, and soul, and there hasn’t been a reprieve from it for decades. Probably centuries. She can’t sleep. Can barely breathe, or eat, or get out of bed even. She doesn’t remember what happiness is like anymore. There’s only an endless pit of black, stretching as far as she can see, with no light at the end of the tunnel.

_ Every mile adds up and leaves a mark on us. _

Look at her. An immortal warrior, supposedly the best of the best, struggling to claw her way out of the darkness. So firmly trapped in it that she just wants to stop existing. What’s the point of it anyways? No family. No friends. No one who understands. She’s  _ pathetic.  _ And she’ll never be anything but.

_ I’ve fallen in love with a ghost. I’ve lost my balance when I needed it most. _

Just a nick is enough to drain the life from her. She flips the spear around so that she’s staring right at it and puts her hand on the barbed head, resting the butt against the floor. And then she holds it tight and yanks her hand down, and there’s a rush of hot blood down her arm as the spear flickers with a million different colors and she feels the life draining away as she hits the floor. And finally there’s relief as blackness closes in. 


End file.
